


Waking up (to a beautiful new life)

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [52]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff, Minor Angst, Pining, Sleeping Beauty Elements, True Love, True Love's Kiss, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 10:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30137877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Maggy the Frog made one more prophecy to young Cersei - a horrible misfortune will befall Jaime if he fails to be one with his true love by his fortieth name day.The problem - the deadline is close on their heels.**A mish-mash of mush I created while attempting to inject a Sleeping Beauty element into JB.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [52]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483640
Comments: 36
Kudos: 109





	Waking up (to a beautiful new life)

**Author's Note:**

> To begin with, I wish to thank you, dear friends, from the bottom of my heart for all the support and inspiring comments you took the time out to send my way. While my enthusiasm had completely gone down to a big zero, your wonderful words were encouragement enough to pick me up to post this one.  
> I will surely respond to each and every lovely comment in due course.
> 
> As for the Tumblr drama, I did get more of those messages which I'm not going to reply to.

“Do you believe in true love, my lady?”

Brienne pauses her thoughts to face the shrewd green eyes that always read more than they can see. She holds back her view. To jump into an answer without regarding the context is unwise.

“What if I told you there is someone for everyone?” Tyrion goes on. “And nothing, not even the toughest obstacle that stands between them, can stop their eventual union?”

Taken back to the thorn-filled girlhood she was forced to endure, she ponders the tales she had been fed by maidens around her. There were princesses who were dainty as the wind. With eyes brighter than stars and lips that were made to be kissed, they were girls unlike her. And there were princes one would swoon at the sight of - so much like Jaime. She recalls how these lovelorn men in the pages of these books would rush to the rescue of their beauties in peril. Knights in shining armour armed with the power of their love, with one sweet gesture of a kiss, they would seal this bond the two were always meant to be tied in.

“I’m inclined to consider that you do tilt in favour of a faith in such matters,” Tyrion says, misunderstanding her lapse in concentration.

“Why do you ask?” From what she’s heard of the youngest Lannister, there always has to be a calculated motive to every word he speaks.

“There happens to be this prophecy a witch had once made to Cersei when she was a child.” He clears his throat. “She was warned that if Jaime cannot be one with his true love by his fortieth name day, he shall fall into a deep sleep forever.”

“Is the answer to that not—” 

“I'm afraid it is more complicated than that.” 

“Why are you telling me all this, my lord?” she cautiously asks. If he is trying to emphasize that Jaime was born for Cersei, and she, for him, it is best to feign indifference to this matter. To keep her feelings to herself would be the most prudent thing to do.

“Jaime’s name day will be upon us by the turn of the moon,” he says. “I just thought you might want to know.”

+++++

“Yield!”

Her mind barely in it, Brienne relents with a nod. Getting this over with and getting out of here might help ease her restlessness.

“This is the third time I’ve had you biting the dust.” Jaime restores his sword to his belt and steps away from her. “Which of us is worthy of the praise this time? Are you such a skilled teacher? Or am I the best pupil ever?”

Ignoring the teasing edge to his tone, she gets to her feet, and carefully steering clear of his eyes, begins to pat down the dirt clinging to her breeches.

“You know, it has been my burning ambition to overpower you, fling you down—” He stops abruptly, regarding her. “You look like something’s bothering you, wench.”

“I—” She deliberates, and before something inside her can swing the doors completely shut, it slips out of her mouth. “I was informed of the prophecy, and with your name day approaching—” 

“Do you not think it is just a tall tale made up to scare a child?”

“I do.” But try as she might, the nagging uneasiness wouldn’t leave her alone. All that fills her mind are disturbing visions of him being coming to harm in ways more than many. Standing between her and sleep is a new nightmare each night.

“I don’t believe it either.” She can sense from his tone that he means it. “But my sister—” He begins walking towards the stairs out of here. “She insists I wed her in secret just to appease the prophecy—”

“Maybe you ought to,” Brienne mumbles, her every word a kick to her heart. “If you marry her—” 

“You know that can never happen.”

His expression shifting to a deeper shade of melancholy, he races up the steps, leaving her to her troubled mind.

+++++ 

Sansa is the reason for her presence here, her purpose, but today, this visit to the Godswood is more of a distraction, a means to get her mind off from keeping count and brooding about the days dwindling in number before the fateful moment would strike, uprooting them.

“I assure you I will do something soon to address her situation,” Jaime promises, his hand a hair’s breadth away from hers. “I—”

“I know you will.”

Before those fingers can meet hers, she gets away. She cannot bring herself to take back a head full of memories of a touch she’d never feel again. 

What began as a little girl’s fright has now become her full-fledged helplessness.

If only she could stop believing in it…

+++++ 

While the crowd around them is drinking and making merry at the betrothal feast of their king, Brienne tries not to slip back into panic, forcing herself to stop counting down the few hours to the dreaded moment.

“Your drink is untouched.”

Summoning all the calm she can gather, she turns to him.

“It’s Dornish,” he insists. “Go on.”

She takes a sip for his sake. “It’s one of the finest I’ve tasted.”

“I came here to ask you if—” Jaime looks over his shoulder to Joffrey leading Margaery to the first dance. “May I have my first dance with you, my lady?”

She gulps down a good deal of her wine. For him this might be just a dance, but for her—

“I can’t,” she flatly refuses.

“Just one dance.”

One glimpse of those imploring eyes - her walls come shattering down. She takes his hand, letting herself into the touch she’d successfully avoided once before.

His gaze pours into hers as they take their place among the other couples. “For someone totally smitten with Renly, I really expected you to do better than me when it comes to believing in true love.” 

Not even in her wildest dreams is she going to admit to him that this is not about Renly anymore. 

“For someone who has been with just one woman all his life, I assumed your opinion would be different,” she retorts, letting her tone mask her feelings.

The music begins, and so does he, and she follows. They move with the rest, hand in hand, one moment, with the next bringing her into his arms. His soft eyes, the scent of his breath so close to hers, the gentle press of his fingers on her waist - while she can have none of this after tonight, the ghastly vision of life squeezed out of him is far far worse. 

“Please do as she says,” she begs, eyes darting to Cersei. “The consequences can be dealt with later—” 

He draws her closer, his grip around her tightening. “I already told you that’s a preposterous—”

“ _Please!_ ”

“Brienne, it doesn’t work like that.” He goes with the tune, takes her with him. “Marrying— being with her is no shield that will guard me from death.” 

When the beat ceases to be, she steps away from him. “I must retire to my chambers.”

+++++

One last dance - is she to take this as a consolation and preserve it in her heart all her life? 

Brienne lies in bed thinking about the evening, of every minute she has spent in his company, grudgingly or otherwise.

Whether the curse unfolds or lets him go free - a memory is all she’d be left with. She’d gladly pick the one where he lives. The prospect of him and his golden-haired lover becoming one, though not in the eyes of the world, keeps stabbing her in her chest, the only balm to these dagger-wounds to her heart, his well-being should their bond come to be.

She wants him to live, to be happy. So what if she can never have him? So what if she was not born to enjoy the bliss true love brings to a heart parched for affection? She can, at least, do her best and try one more time to knock some sense into him before it’s too late—

She bolts out of bed. One last chance before midnight - she is willing to seize it and make the most of it.

+++++

When she gets to his chambers, Tyrion’s sombre expression tells her that lightning has already struck. “It has happened.” He leads her in. “He just - just collapsed. Qyburn cannot understand why.”

“Lady Brienne?” Cersei’s cold eyes look up from the limp form on the bed. “What brings you out of your bed and here at this hour?” 

“I came to see if—” The lifeless body of the man she loves snatches away her words, and trembling lips are all Brienne has left with for countless painful seconds. “Is he breathing?” She tentatively approaches the bed. She wants the answer like she needs air in her lungs. At the same time, she dreads it. “Is he—” 

“He’s alive—”

“Thank the Seven for their mercy!” Brienne heaves a huge sigh of relief, and hurries forward to be by his side, but Cersei rises from her seat, putting herself in her way. 

“Tyrion and I are here to take care of him,” she icily reminds Brienne of her place. “I do not approve of anyone other than his family to be here at this hour.”

“My apologies, Your Grace.” Brienne attempts a crude curtsy, then withdraws. “I must take your leave—” 

“Lady Brienne has the right to stay,” Tyrion intervenes, quiet, but firm. “She was there for Jaime in his worst days, not us.”

No argument to counter him, Cersei glowers at her brother.

Brienne’s mind, meanwhile, takes off from here. Past and present, real and fantasy - they all come together, forming a dense web, and right in the middle of it all, one thing stands out clear.

Their last resort.

“If this is the prophecy unfolding, and if he’s still alive, there is a way to revive him.” She takes on the wrath of Cersei’s eyes. “Your Grace, true love’s kiss could bring him back.”

“Of course,” Tyrion agrees, twitching eyes urging his sister to go for the plunge. “Trying it will bring him no harm, surely.”

Cersei, fortunately, does not explode at the suggestion. Putting aside her rage and her disdain for Brienne, she perches by her brother’s side. When she bends her face to his, Brienne averts her eyes. She is strong, but not so much that she can—

“It’s not working!” 

Her agitated cry tugs at Brienne’s attention, and she watches as his twin kisses him again, and again. But to everyone’s dismay, Jaime remains unmoved. 

“Why is he still asleep?” She leaves Jaime’s bedside to confront Tyrion. “Why is he not—” 

“Why don’t you get some rest, sister, and leave me to think about this,” Tyrion gently tells her.

“This is all rubbish.” Cersei looks from Brienne to her brother. “I’m going to find another way to get him out of this.”

After she storms away, Brienne turns to Tyrion. “My apologies. It never occurred to me that my arrival would be so inappropriate—” 

“It didn’t work because she is not the one.”

Stranded in the middle of her thread of thought, she blinks at his conclusion. “What do you mean?”

“I’m leaving him in your care, my lady.” With a slight smile, Tyrion makes his way to the door. “I have instructed the guards that father need not be appraised of this until dawn.” The smile is more prominent, warming his eyes. “By then, I’m quite confident there will be a significant _improvement_.”

As soon as he is gone, Brienne is at Jaime’s side. “I wish I could do something.” She takes his hand, rubs it gently between hers, letting the heat from her body flow into his cold skin. “I wish I could—” 

She bends, touches his lips with hers. “I wish—”

A jolt hits her when it works like a charm. She pulls back, embarrassed, when he stirs, joy and relief flooding her chest when those eyes see again. “I should—” Now that he’s looking up at her, words flee her tongue. “I should probably inform your brother and sister—”

Jaime grabs her wrist and holds her back. “You can’t be such a tease and leave me in the lurch like this.” His eyes light up. “Where is the rest of that kiss?”

“What you need right now is some sleep,” she mumbles, making a half-hearted effort to free herself from his grasp. 

“Did I not tell you that being with her will not work?” He lets go, only to hold her hand properly, fingers making themselves at home among hers. “I intended to ask _you_ to marry me at that dance, but you fled before I could—” He pauses to gather some strength. “I thought you didn’t—that you were not—” She can still find traces of his hurt from hours back in his eyes. “That’s why I didn’t pursue you.”

“I thought you were meant to be with—” Her cheeks burning, she drops her gaze to her lap. “But now is not the time for this. You’re weak, and you need to get some rest. So why don’t you let me go—”

“Not before you give me your answer.” He sits up. “With a kiss, you saved my life.” His voice gets softer when he goes on, “With your hand in mine, would you be ready to—” He huffs out a laboured breath. “Marry me, Brienne.”

Her heart at her throat, she manages a nod.

They sit together, gazing into each other’s eyes, looking far into a future they see as one, and they would have stayed like this all night if not for the footsteps outside.

“I’d better hurry before someone finds out I’m here.”

She gets up, but he drags her back again. “Not before you give me a _proper_ kiss, my lady.”

A parting moment of bliss, Brienne indulges in, staying back long enough to grant him this wish, thankful to the gods for granting her hers.

**Author's Note:**

> While I do have a few more of these one shots in the pipeline, I might go easy on my posting frequency henceforth.  
> Thank you so much for reading! Always enjoy having you around sharing your thoughts, so please do so.


End file.
